Pen Pal
by silvermyth
Summary: Axel's flight is delayed, so he meanders over to a gift shop to kill some time. AU one-shot, AkuRoku.


**A/N:** Another KH one-shot. **nicayal** keeps asking for more AkuRoku, so here it is. It also fulfills the Postcard Prompt Challenge (sure, let's call it that) we both agreed to...over a month ago, haha.

 **Pen Pal**

Axel was bored, and that was his excuse for being in the gift shop. He'd left his phone charger in his checked bag—such a bad idea—and it had died about an hour after the announcement had rung out at his terminal. Delayed flight. Grounded flights because of weather. Updates as they learned more. That was two hours ago.

He hadn't been able to focus enough to do more than flip through the book that Roxas had given him. He was buzzing with agitated energy, sick of waiting already. He'd already eaten—coffee and a donut, no wonder he was fidgety. So the next stop was to loiter in the gift shop.

He ran a hand over his red-spiked hair for the umpteenth time as he scrutinized a snow globe of San Francisco. It wasn't very realistic, he surmised, since he couldn't remember it ever snowing in the city.

He spared an irritated thought for the Superior, for sending him on the last-minute assignment on the gulf coast _right in the middle of hurricane season._ Never mind if it was urgent, at this rate he wouldn't get there in a timely manner, anyway.

He'd reached the postcard display, one of those spinning wire racks that postcards lived in. He gave it a nudge, watching the bright photographs slowly rotate.

He thought of Roxas' reluctant smiles, and wondered when he'd get to see the blond again.

Another slow turn of the display. He preferred the assignments he could tackle with the youngest member of the Organization. XIII. It broke the monotony, having the teen at his side.

And then of course they would share a hotel room, because the Superior wouldn't waste money on two rooms, even if he could write it off as a business expense. Two double beds, because they still hadn't told the Superior that they only needed one.

Axel had stopped seeing the postcards in front of him, even as he continued to idly turn the rack. Instead, he was seeing the curve of Roxas' back, his hands splayed against the blond's hips as he pressed kisses along a salt-sweetened neck. The feel of skin on skin ghosting in his mind. The sounds of gasping breath, moans, as Roxas finally abandoned himself to pleasure.

Axel shook himself from the reverie, yet again berating himself for putting his charger in his checked bag. No way to talk to the thirteenth member of Organization XIII.

The rack had stopped turning, neglected at Axel's return to reality. Green eyes came to rest on one of the postcards, a brilliant photo of Lombard Street. Hydrangeas in full bloom inside the curves of the road snaking down the hill. Cars that looked as if they belonged a couple decades in the past, and at the bottom of the hill, San Francisco in block letters.

Axel plucked one of those up between long fingers, and took it to the counter. Glanced to the side, and added a charger for his model phone to his pile. He'd call Roxas, maybe, but he was definitely going to send him the postcard. Even if it was from the city where they had their base of operations. Or rather, _because_ of it, because he could imagine the wry look in the blue eyes when he received it.

He knew he had a big smile on his face while he scrawled some cheesy lame message onto the back of the card. Something about Roxas' eyes being bluer than the sky shown in the photograph. Maybe even about how the palm tree resembled the unruly spikes.

Stamps were a thing, Axel remembered, and dug them out of his briefcase. He even managed to find a post box, and slid the card in with a flourish.

o - o - o

Axel was still away on assignment when Roxas received the ridiculous card in the mail.

He wouldn't admit it when the redhead returned, but it made him smile when he was by himself. He stashed it a box he kept of mementos, little odds and ends that he collected to mark significant events in his life. The postcard he nestled under a sea shell Axel had given him from another assignment, one they'd worked on together, and had a spare afternoon to walk the beach. Roxas cherished the small things.

Like the little kisses Axel would shower down his throat when he returned from assignment, warming the blond down to his toes.


End file.
